under the mountain
by Jean Kirschstein
Summary: They traded grins, wild and mischievous, and grasped hands tightly under the safety of the table. / Sereda Aeducan's life, told in snippets.
1. Chapter 1

**i am in love with aeducan ok**

**proceed with the little, infrequently-updated collection about sereda aeducan.**

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"A girl! The babe is a little girl!"

Any idle chatter that might have echoed the halls had quieted at the shout, all eyes turning to the disheveled midwife who was smiling wearily and wringing her hands. Through the thick walls and half open door, a shrill cry could be heard.

Endrin stood, slowly, face impassive. He could hear Trian slide off the bench next to him, feel him grab his hand, but the dwarf king moved as if in a daze, his feet shuffling across the floor. The midwife held the door open for him, curtseying and offering a quiet, "Your majesty." The wide grin still tugged at her face, but he payed it no mind.

Queen Anikia was propped up by mounds of pillows, her face red and hair out of place, but a radiant smile stretched across her lips, and Endrin felt a smile of his own worm its way to the surface. Trian rushed past him, practically vaulting onto the large bed to peer at the wriggling bundle in his mother's arms.

"This is it?" the young prince asked, disappointed. His nose was wrinkled and his eyes squinted, dark brows drawn together in displeasure. "It's not very pretty."

Endrin could see Anikia try to smother a smile a she came to sit with his son and wife, the down blankets sinking under his weight. "She's your little sister, Trian," Anikia admonished fondly. "Her name is Sereda."


	2. Chapter 2

She was very young when she first began he weapons training.

It was under the insistence of her father, to the displeasure of her mother- which was strange, considering the fact that her father was the noble and her mother the warrior. But, regardless, she was given a sword and a teacher, and so such her training started.

It was hard, arduous work for the first few months- working on stances and the proper way to hold weapons and shields, with none of the whacking and fighting that she had been promised. Sereda had been returned to her mother one evening, mouth set in a pout and frustrated tears rolling down her rosy cheeks.

"What is it? What's wrong, love?" Anikia had asked, kneeling and smoothing Sereda's hair away from her sweaty face.

It took the young princess a moment to find the words. "Master Saelrac wouldn't let me!"

A bemused look swept over the queen's face, and she placed her hands on her daughter's shoulders, ever patient. "Wouldn't let you do what?"

"He wouldn't let me use the practice dummies!" Sereda wailed, surging forward to throw her arms about Anikia's neck, hiccuping sobs fighting their way from her throat.

"Oh, child," Anikia sighed, squeezing her daughter and pressing a kiss to the girl's wet cheek. "He'll let you, in time. Meanwhile, you'll just have to work harder."

Sereda thought about this for a moment and disentangled herself, peering at the queen with reddened eyes, smothering another little sob with her hands. "Really?"

"Of course," Anikia said with a wide smile. "If you put your mind to it, you can do anything."


	3. Chapter 3

**trian is ten years older than sereda, who is six years older than bhelen.  
**

**i don't like how this turned out**

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Sereda could remember the day that Bhelen was born.

It was not a happy day. The pregnancy had taken its toll on the queen, leaving her drawn and ill. And yet, somehow, Anikia still managed to muster up a smile whenever her daughter came calling.

Sereda had been forced out of the room by wrinkled old women when her mother went into labor. Confused and frightened by the sharp screams muffled by the door, the six year old princess cried and cried until her father swept down the hall and gathered her in his arms, Trian not far behind.

The three waited in the hallway for hours, Sereda dozing in Endrin's embrace as Trian paced tensely to and fro.

"Peace, Trian," Endrin said, and Sereda could practically _hear_ the frown as she felt his voice rumble through his chest. She curled closer, tucking her nose into his neck, trying to calm herself.

* * *

It was a long while before the door opened again, a weathered old woman in a bloodstained apron slipping out. Her face was pale and sad, the lines in her face drawn tight and her eyes downcast. Everything was quiet.

Endrin was on his feet immediately, jostling little Sereda from her nap. She sat on her bench, yawning and rubbing sleep from her eyes, while Trian stood vigil with his arms crossed stiffly over his chest. Their father had exchanged a few terse, quiet, words with the midwife before following her through the doorway, the heavy wooden door thudding closed behind them.

"Trian?" Sereda asked eventually, her voice small and timid. The prince glanced back over his shoulder, expression hard, but sighed and softened at the sight of his little sister huddled in on herself.

He answered, "Yes?"

"Is Mama gonna die?"

It was a question that gave Trian pause, particularly coming from Sereda. She was young, not stupid- something he often had to remind himself of. "No," he replied quietly, sinking down next to her. The little girl nuzzled into his side. "She'll be just fine."


	4. Chapter 4

**yes, i took m!aeducan's default name for gorim's father's name.**

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Gorim was a strange thing, when Sereda first met him.

He was little, all spindly limbs and manners topped with a shock of red hair, and that was something that Sereda found hard to comprehend. At eleven years old, she was taller than him, which was amusing, but he was better with a sword, which was not.

Regardless, she had never really spoken to him. Sereda was not used to being around those of her own age- either she didn't like the playmates she was presented with, or they were too wary of her rank as princess to speak to her.

Gorim was neither of those. They sparred and she was thoroughly trounced every time, and the few instances that he said something, he was quiet and unfailingly polite. "You're improving, my lady," or "I think you're getting a hold of it, Your Highness."

And then, one morning- Master Saelrac wasn't there. Sereda sat herself down with the book that she often brought to lessons, and waited. And waited. And waited and waited, until Gorim quietly sat down beside her, and then they waited together.

"Where do you think he is?" Sereda asked eventually, closing her book. She kept her eyes on her hands and furrowed her bows.

She could feel him startle, his elbow brushing hers, and it took a second for him to respond. "I'm sorry, my lady?"

Sereda shot him a glare, gray eyes sharp. She would have none of that- no playing dumb or avoiding questions. "Master Saelrac. Where do you think he is?"

"Well," at this Gorim colored and coughed awkwardly into his fist, "my father says that he goes down to Tapsters, sometimes, gets lost in his mug."

"Your father?" Sereda blinked, and then, "What does that even _mean_?"

"Duran Medra," Gorim clarified, then leaned forward with a rather conspiratorial look. "And it means he goes there to drink too much ale and leer at the serving ladies."

This, of course, was just the kind of scandalous information that delighted the young princess. "You know," she decided. "You're not all that bad."


	5. Chapter 5

**hi i'm back**

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****As years wore on, Sereda became a terror- a constant headache for her elder brother and a source of fond amusement for her father.

At thirteen years old, she had found a friend in Gorim, and the two often caused more mischief than they were worth. The first time the little princess caught sight of her companion's wicked grin, she had been rather startled; who was this fierce creature, and what had he done with her friend?

Regardless, the more she prodded Gorim from his shell, the more trouble they got into. The pair had taken to haunting the lobby of the Proving arena, eyeing the wall and the patrons, looking for a way in, as they were eyed in turn by the clerks and the Proving Master.

But, for all their efforts, nothing could stop Sereda Aeducan. Once she set her mind to it, she could do anything. The two dwarflings were tucked into the first row of seats, nearly hanging over the walls that separated them from the ornate stone of the floor. They both cheered for whichever fighter that captured their fancy (Gorim's nose scrunched up when Sereda swooned over Ser Blackburn, and she in turn ribbed him about the wispy red hair on his chin), and though the princess's ears burned over the expletives pouring from her friend's mouth, she hollered just as loudly.

And once they were found and caught- well. Neither could say that it wasn't worth it.


	6. Chapter 6

As a younger girl, Sereda hoped that she might find a friend in her brother.

So far, Bhelen had proved quite the disappointment. He was kind and round and fair-haired and blue-eyed and he quite reminded her of Mother, which was ridiculous. All the same, the princess held a great fondness for him, and brought him sweets when she could (his favorites were the sugar drops- expensive, and imported from the surfacers living in the great cities of Men).

Unfortunately, this endeared her terribly to the young dwarf, and he followed her everywhere. Though she was flattered that her brother admired her so, Sereda was fourteen and Did Not Appreciate Bhelen shadowing her every step.

So, one day, fed up with the dwarfling's questions and requests for her to slow down, Sereda spun on her heel and shoved him by the shoulders, right onto his bottom. The princess had been on her way to find Gorim in the Commons, though all thoughts of her destination were wiped away by her brother's fat tears. A sharp, gnawing guilt rose within her- the child was only eight, and he loved her so.

Sereda knelt beside him, taking him into her arms, and though he struggled, she persevered, just like she remembered Mother doing. "Shh," she soothed.

"No!" Bhelen sniffled, and she could practically see the petulant pout on his face, even as he nosed her (rather damp) shoulder. "You're mean."

"I know," Sereda agreed almost pleasantly. She had long since become immune to her brother's moods. "Will candies put me back in your good graces?"

Little Bhelen perked up noticeably at that, his tear-stained cheeks rosy and his nose running, and he nodded furiously. Sereda grinned, pulling him up by the hand, and together they turned around and headed back towards the markets.


	7. Chapter 7

**i'm blaming some of this on my love of tolkien's dwarves**

**i would think that they live longer than humans- the elves did, until they were imprisoned and their magics lost, so why not dwarves?**

**sereda is still fairly young (i don't think that she joins the wardens until her fifties or sixties)**

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****She was nearly twenty-six when they first kissed.

It was a messy affair, all hot, wet mouths and fumbling hands. His fingers tangled in her hair and his short beard scratched at his face, and though the sensation was strange, it wasn't exactly unpleasant. She grasped at his shoulders, clumsily trying to press herself closer.

Sereda and Gorim had skipped lessons, gallivanting merrily around Orzammar, though they studiously avoided Dust Town. Somehow, their day had ended in Tapster's- she with a scarf around her head, to mask her identity- and they had both happily drank their fill. They were young, and though Gorim was more experienced the matters of alcohol than she, neither could hold their ale well.

They stumbled out a side door into a dark, quiet alley that smelled of sweat and stale vomit, leaning heavily on eachother. They were laughing, clueless as to what was so amusing, and collapsed into a giggling heap on the ground. They laughed themselves sore and tumbled around, wrestling as they often did during Sereda's hand-to-hand lessons, and Gorim pinned her, as he often did. they were quiet, then, he peering down at her with an unreadable expression and she staring up at him with wide eyes.

Then, he leaned down, pressing his lips hesitantly to hers- once, twice, three times. Sereda lifts herself, straining her neck, capturing her mouth in his. It was a strange thing, kissing. It sounded so desirable when she heard other girls talk of it, but then they never mentioned how _wet _it was, or the uncomfortable feeling of inexperienced hands palming her breasts though her clothes.

Gorim was of the the same opinion, apparently, for it was he who pulled away first, touching his brow to hers. They watched eachother for a moment, and it was quiet save for their heavy breathing. By the time Sereda spoke, Gorim hand rolled off her, though their hands remained intertwined as they stared at teh vaulted rock high above.

"You'll have to marry me now, you know," she told him quietly, and Gorim laughed.

Sereda decided that she quite liked his laugh.


	8. Chapter 8

**wow hi yes it's been forever i'm sorry**

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Sereda had never liked dresses, and, by extention, formal functions.

They were confining, uncomfortable things, and she secretly thought that she was rather unsuited to them. Her limbs too muscled for such delicate silks, the smattering of freckles across her face looking strange against the fine fabric. She preferred to hide behind armor, where she could assume confidence and hide away her insecurities.

Formal affairs, mostly name-days and holidays, made her cringe. She sat prettily through the meal at her father's side, back stiff as noble males looked her over with leering eyes. She felt uncomfortably like a prized bronco, dressed up and paraded about, sold to the highest bidder. She _knew_ that her father wouldn't do that, wouldn't force her to marry someone she did not wish to, but the expectation was there and that was what put her on edge. So she pulled back her shoulders and clasped her hands in her lap, staring studiously at the plate in front of her. The silk covering her felt nothing like armor.

It was all worth it, though, when Gorim would twine their fingers together when no one was looking and whisper, "You look beautiful."

He had come into his own during the last few years, firey curls coating his jaw, brown eyes warm and observant under strong brows. She had seen how othe females looked at him, nobles and warriors and casteless alike in their apraisement. It made something like pride burn in her belly, to have this dwarf as her friend and her lover and her Second, and she put that fierceness into her voice when she replied, "You don't look too bad yourself, ser."

He flashed her a smile that was all mischief, and she returned it when no one was watching.


End file.
